


Manifest

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Tokyo Babylon
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Consensual Kissing, Scars, Spoilers, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Seishirou fits his hand to Subaru’s face, threading his fingers into the dark tumble of the other’s hair and sliding his thumb along the arch of cheekbone, and when Subaru turns against him and parts his lips on a breath of pleasure Seishirou lets his lips curve onto a smile as he reaches down to brush his other hand along the pale skin of Subaru’s bare forearm." Seishirou takes a moment to appreciate what is his.
Relationships: Sakurazuka Seishirou/Sumeragi Subaru
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	Manifest

Subaru is very deeply asleep.

Seishirou makes certain of that, first of all. Subaru has a trusting heart, far too much of one to balk at the casual intimacy of falling asleep in the company of a close family friend, and his self-sacrificial need to help any and all who ask it of him drives him through nights as often as through days. His eyes carry the shadows of exhaustion at all times, showing signs of the same weight of responsibility that drags so heavy against the slant of his narrow shoulders, until all Seishirou really has to do is offer a warm smile, and the peace of a quiet room, for Subaru to fall right where Seishirou wants him.

That’s across Seishirou’s couch, at the moment. They were sitting together at first, side-by-side while they ate the dinner Seishirou provided; the excuse of cleaning up afterward let Seishirou offer Subaru the irresistible invitation to lie down, and by the time Seishirou was shutting off the water Subaru was curled up on his side, his arms drawn in protectively over his chest and his feet fitting carefully against the far end of the couch. He looks uncertain of his welcome, even in sleep, as if only drifting through fitful dreams while he waits for the inevitable summons to a new crisis, to someone demanding the help that no one else can give. Seishirou watches him for a long minute, leaning over the counter in the kitchen as dreams flicker glimpses of Subaru’s soul across his features; and then he turns his head, and shuts his own eyes, and breathes out a voiceless barrier against any summons but those which Seishirou himself sees fit to allow.

Subaru has commented more than once on how peaceful Seishirou’s home is, how easy it is for him to drift into the rest that proves so elusive when he is anywhere else. Seishirou always smiles, and beams some inane endearment, and the subject never dips into any deeper explanation than Seishirou’s stated affection and the love that is flickering itself to an as-yet-unacknowledged warmth in Subaru’s chest. Seishirou thinks it could be charming, to someone else, how naïvely innocent Subaru can be even as he wields such impressive power in himself: that he never considers the possibility that Seishirou might have power of his own, and might be applying it to create exactly the situation that Subaru finds so peaceful, that so readily draws him into the dreams currently lulling him deeper into sleep where he’s lying across the couch.

Seishirou waits. He has waited for years already, has lingered for months even after their fateful reunion; he can stand to delay for a mere hour as Subaru’s shoulders relax from their tight forward angle and his legs let go of their tension. Subaru’s expression softens, the crease between his brows smoothing along with the set of his mouth, and as Subaru’s mind falls deeper into itself his body unfolds as well, his gloved hands uncurling from the tight hold he had against his chest as his shoulder tips back to drop him over the cushions beneath him. His position opens up, his body tilting to lie closer to flat over the couch beneath him, and as unconsciousness lays Subaru open over his couch Seishirou draws his glasses free of his face and steps forward from around the kitchen counter on silent feet.

Subaru doesn’t move as Seishirou approaches. He is deeply asleep, too distant from reality and too weighed down by exhaustion to struggle upwards even for the motion of someone drawing alongside the couch where he lies. Even when Seishirou stands before him, looking down at Subaru soft and sweet and vulnerable, Subaru doesn’t stir, doesn’t so much as frown in his sleep. His breathing stays even, his pulse steady and smooth at his throat; there is no indication that he has the least idea Seishirou is there, and less than he senses the other’s presence as any kind of a threat. Seishirou looks at him for a long moment, breathing in the peace of the situation, savoring the tension of anticipation drawing itself to an exquisite symphony through him; and then he leans in, and he reaches out to touch his hand to Subaru’s skin.

Subaru tips in towards Seishirou’s palm as soon as the other touches him, his head turning to seek out the warmth of a caress against his cheek. There is no sign that he is waking, none of the grimace of returning consciousness across his features; his expression remains relaxed, his mouth keeps the soft surrender of lips barely parted around his breathing. It’s instinct stirring his motion, guiding his head to the cradle of Seishirou’s palm against his face with more honesty than Subaru can yet acknowledge in his waking self. Seishirou fits his hand to Subaru’s face, threading his fingers into the dark tumble of the other’s hair and sliding his thumb along the arch of cheekbone, and when Subaru turns against him and parts his lips on a breath of pleasure Seishirou lets his lips curve onto a smile as he reaches down to brush his other hand along the pale skin of Subaru’s bare forearm.

The gloves fit closely around Subaru’s hands. Seishirou has spent long enough watching the easy motion of Subaru’s fingers and the unhesitating action of his hands to know how thin the dark fabric is, how delicate the barrier that hides the length of his fingers and the span of his palms from view. It’s not injury that the gloves are meant to protect from, not physical harm that they defend against, a fact Seishirou well knows without needing to strip them free of Subaru’s hands to glimpse what lies beneath. They are a barrier for something more than that, a wall to stand between a perception that runs deeper than mere sight; and they are well suited to that purpose, imbued with enough magic that Seishirou can feel the glow of it like electricity crackling at the tips of his fingers as he slides his touch down Subaru’s arm to catch at his wrist. It would be enough to stop almost anyone, to hide Subaru from any but the most focused gaze.

It’s almost a shame, Seishirou thinks, that his is exactly that.

Seishirou leans in towards Subaru lying on the couch beneath him, his eyes shut to lay the dark of his lashes across his cheeks, his lips parted as if some subconscious part of him is waiting for a kiss. A lock of Seishirou’s hair falls forward to skim Subaru’s forehead; Seishirou tastes the warmth of the other’s breathing and feels a smile trying to pull taut over his lips.

“Subaru-kun,” he says, speaking softly to frame the murmur of a lullaby against his lips to soothe Subaru deeper into the sleep to which he has already fallen prey. “Your grandmother did a good job protecting you.” His thumb braces around Subaru’s wrist; his fingers slide across the back of Subaru’s hand to catch and fit themselves just beneath the cuff of the glove wrapping his fingers. “Don’t blame her that it wasn’t enough.”

Seishirou slides his fingers down, fitting his touch close against Subaru’s skin without urging the glove free of the other’s hand. He doesn’t need to look to match his fingerprint to the smooth texture of a scar, to follow the line of it up to where it joins to a sharp point with another. Seishirou knows the shape of it, knows the mark he carved into the back of Subaru’s hand as certainly as if he can still feel the weight of the knife in his hold, can still smell the tang of blood in the air. He slides his hand down to cradle the scar at Subaru’s hand against his palm, to flex his grip to brace it against his hold before he shudders a breath for Subaru’s parted lips to draw for their own.

“Subaru-kun,” Seishirou breathes, softening the words to a caress as his thumb slides along Subaru’s wrist to savor the thud of the heartbeat there, to feel the motion of Subaru’s life like the wings of a bird fluttering against the cage of his hold. “I’m going to win our bet.” He leans in, ducking over Subaru lying asleep before him so he can catch the other’s lips with the clasp of his own. They stay like that for a moment, Subaru’s breath and life and soul framed in Seishirou’s grip; and then Seishirou draws back as he slips his hand free of Subaru’s glove. He leans back over his knees, gazing at Subaru before him; and then he slides his hand up to stroke against the other’s cheek and urge his fingers up into Subaru’s hair. Subaru shifts at the couch, stirred towards consciousness by the motion, and when he blinks himself into dazed attention Seishirou sees the flicker of a smile that curves at the other’s mouth as he recognizes his company.

“Seishirou-san,” Subaru says. “I’m...sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Seishirou says, and smooths a lock of hair back from Subaru’s face. “You don’t sleep enough as it is. You make people worry.”

Subaru smiles weakly. “Yeah,” he says. “My sister really puts up with a lot from me.”

“Not just her,” Seishirou tells him. “Don’t forget me too.” He waits until Subaru blinks into focus on him before he smiles, warm and gentle and kind.

“After all,” he says. “I love you, Subaru-kun.”


End file.
